A Matter of Life and Death
by clagjanet
Summary: Sundance #12. Lee learns the Law of Unintended Amanda Consequences when he pretends to be dead to catch a killer.
1. Crying's Not For Me

_All characters belong to Warner Bros and Shoot the Moon Enterprises. No copyright infringement is intended._

_A/N: Did anyone else think Lee got off lightly for pretending to be dead or was it just me?_

* * *

Lee was right, this had not been a good idea. He'd been wrong about why, but he'd been right to be worried.

That's what Billy had realized just a few moments after sitting Amanda down in his office to tell her about Lee's death.

He had braced himself for tears, and instead he was facing icy calm from a very pale Amanda, her hands shaking slightly but with an unnaturally expressionless demeanour.

"Oh no, that can't be right," she was informing him, earnestly. "You must be mistaken."

"Amanda, this is not the kind of thing we make a mistake about!"

Amanda shook her head in disagreement. "Oh, but you see, Lee promised."

"He promised what, Amanda?" asked Billy gently.

"He promised he'd be more careful so that I wouldn't have to go to his funeral," she answered as if this was a clinching argument.

Billy blenched. "He what?"

"We came to an agreement. He said that if I would promise to stay out of trouble, he would too," she explained firmly. "And I haven't been in trouble for weeks, you know I haven't. And well, I know that there was someone going around targeting agents, but we talked about that and he knew I was worried about him and so he couldn't possibly have done something that would have broken that promise to be careful."

"He talked to you about the murdered agents?" Bill asked, incredulous.

"He didn't have to," she said quietly, still in that overly calm voice. "Everyone at the Agency's been talking about it, And then you see, one time I'd made a joke about what spies do when they're off the clock, so the other night he took me to Monk's, just to see how boring it was, and someone came up to the table and started talking about it."

"I see."

"And Lee, well, of course, he just tried to brush it off as nothing, but he got a note that night, did you know that?"

Billy nodded.

"And there was that thing with the camera in his desk. Francine told me," she explained off Billy's raised eyebrow. "But lots of people saw it, so that's another thing that means he would have been being extra careful," continued Amanda. "I mean, he even let me drive him home and he never lets me fuss over him unless it's serious, so that just can't be right. He's much too good an agent for it to happen to him so it must be a misunderstanding. Or a misidentification. Anyway, it can't be Lee."

Billy stared at her as her ramble wound down. This really was not going according to plan at all. He'd told Lee that everyone needed to believe he was dead, and that included Amanda- until after the funeral at least. If Amanda didn't believe it, no one else would either.

"_Oh come on, Billy! Can't you just ask her to stay at home for a few days? Why do we need to drag her into this?"_

"_That won't be enough, Scarecrow. We don't know how this man is getting his inside information or how he's getting in and out of the Agency… Everyone has to believe you're dead!"_

_Lee raked his hand through his hair. "I don't like it. Amanda never does what you think she'll do – this is going to come back and bite us somehow."_

"_You're being ridiculous, Scarecrow. Amanda is just a regular person who has regular reactions. That's the key – if Amanda believes it, everyone else will believe it."_

_Lee had stared at him, then finally nodded wordlessly._

"_It won't be so bad, Lee – we can tell her the truth right after the funeral."_

"_I hope that's soon enough," Lee muttered. _

Billy glanced at the closed blinds that covered his office window. He knew there was a whole bullpen of people out there – one of whom might be the killer's source – and they all knew why Amanda had been called in here. He gripped the edge of the desk he was leaning back against and stared down at his feet. He knew what he had to do, but he'd hoped it wouldn't go this far.

"Amanda," he said finally, looking up. "There's no misidentification. I was with him last night. I had just walked him to his car and so I was among the first on scene." He paused and watched her go even paler. "There's no mistake."

Amanda stared at him silently, and then suddenly shot to her feet. "I see." She held out her hand and he automatically took it. "Thank you so much for letting me know, Mr. Melrose. Will you let me know when the funeral is going to take place?"

"It's tomorrow, Amanda. Parkview Cemetery – there will be a small graveside service."

"Tomorrow?" For the first time, there was a tremor of emotion in her voice. "So soon?"

"Lee's wishes were on file. He didn't want a- "

"A fuss. He doesn't like it when I fuss over him." She took a sharp breath and corrected herself. "Didn't like it," she said, her voice breaking. "He didn't like it when I fussed over him."

Billy could see that this was when it really hit her, when she finally accepted what he was saying. Before he could say anything else, there was a sharp rap on the door and then before he could respond, it opened and Francine walked in, her red-rimmed eyes and blotchy skin testament to the fact she'd been crying. Amanda stared at her for a beat, then pushed past her and began to walk quickly through the bullpen. Without another word, Francine whirled and ran to catch up with her, wrapping an arm around shoulders that had begun to heave and they walked out together, heads huddled close.

Billy sagged and ran his hand over his face. There was no doubt the entire Agency would believe Lee was dead now, but he was already regretting the emotional cost to Amanda and Francine.

"It's just for one day," he told himself. "It will all be better tomorrow."


	2. Pro Patria Mori

"You're looking very serious today, Darling," said her mother as Amanda walked into the kitchen the next morning. "But maybe it's just seems that way because you're wearing black." She looked up from her coffee cup with a small smile. "Are you trying to impress that handsome Mr. Stetson at work by dressing more professionally?"

Amanda flinched and lifted her hand to her mouth to keep in the escaping gasp. "No, Mother," she said, when she trusted her voice. "Actually, Mr. Stetson was… transferred… this week." She reached for the milk, glad to see that her hands weren't shaking as badly as she'd feared.

Dotty put her cup down with a thump. "Transferred? When did that happen? Weren't you just working with him the other evening?"

"It was very sudden," said Amanda, quietly.

"Oh now that's so disappointing!" said Dotty. "He was so charming! And I really thought the two of you had a spark when he dropped by on Christmas. You know, I don't think there was anything wrong with his car at all – I think he was just looking for an excuse to see you. The way he looked at you-"

"Mother, stop!" Amanda's voice was shaking and she was bracing herself on the kitchen counter trying to hold in the sobs that threatened. "He's gone and I won't be seeing him again."

"Oh, Amanda," said her mother softly, realizing for the first time how upset she was. "I'm so sorry." She walked around the kitchen island to hug her. "Maybe you should come with us to Williamsburg, Darling – distract yourself for a little bit."

"No, Mother, I have something important I have to do today and then some of us are going to get together tonight after work. I'll be fine – you and the boys should go and enjoy yourselves. I wouldn't be much fun this weekend anyway." She gave Dotty a weak smile.

"Are you sure?" Dotty was concerned at just how upset Amanda was. She'd suspected there might be an office romance in the making but maybe there'd been more to it than met the eye.

"Yes, I'm sure." Amanda nodded. "I just… I just need some time alone. It's been a very bad week at work. And I know it's silly to be attached to someone who was just a co-worker but…"

Dotty gave her another squeeze, then stepped back to cup her daughter's cheek. "It's not silly to know you'll miss a friend, Amanda. And Lee was quite a special friend, I think?"

"Yes, he was," admitted Amanda, glad that on that topic she could be truthful with her mother for once. "And I'll miss him a lot."

* * *

Billy looked around the motley crew of people standing by Lee's grave and sighed. Outside of the Marine guard and Alec Belmont, almost everyone there was from another spy agency. The Russians, the Chinese, the Koreans… even the Colombians had sent a representative, for what reason he wasn't sure. Because they wanted to see that he was really dead? Because they'd lost agents too? There was some sort of honor among spies, he supposed.

The turnout from the Agency was small – they'd put out a story that Lee had stated a preference for a small service and a wake to be held later at Nedlinger's. Inured to the possibility of death in their profession, it seemed the office had, by and large, respected that wish. Still, there had been a few people from work, even Patch the night janitor who'd told Billy gruffly that he'd always liked Lee because he always shared any takeout he brought in when he'd worked late.

He glanced sideways at the trio beside him; Amanda, Francine, and Efraim Beaman stood shoulder to shoulder, each lost in their own sorrow as everyone listened to Belmont droning out platitudes. Beaman had his arm draped loosely around Francine's shoulders and Francine and Amanda were gripping hands as if it was the only thing holding them up. He winced at the sight – they were going to be angry at being kept out of this loop and he was pretty sure he knew who they were going to be angriest at. With luck, seeing Lee later might distract them long enough to keep Francine from doing him actual violence.

Belmont finally wound up his platitudes about duty and patriotism and the crowd began to disperse. Francine stepped forward and placed a bottle of champagne on the flag-draped casket, then turned to look at Amanda.

Amanda shook her head slightly. "I just need a minute," she said. Francine nodded and said quietly, "We'll wait for you in the car" before turning away with Efraim and walking across the grass toward the winding driveway.

Billy stepped closer as Amanda leaned forward and laid a small bouquet of vibrant yellow flowers beside the champagne. She turned as he approached, her dark eyes clouded with tears.

"They're from my garden," she managed to choke out. "They're not as nice as these other ones." She gestured to the floral displays brought by the other mourners. "But he always said he liked the ones on my desk."

"I remember," replied Billy.

"I never thought it would happen. I mean, I knew that it could, but I never . . . really thought that it would," Amanda gave a little sob.

Billy's gut was twisting with guilt at the sight of her raw emotions. "No one ever does. You put it out of your mind and you keep on living."

Amanda turned to face him and took a deep breath. "What happens now?"

"You go home. Amanda, trust me. Go on home. Tomorrow will be better."

Amanda nodded and took his hand before leaning in kissing him gently on the cheek.

"All right," she said softly and turned to walk away to join Francine and Efraim where they waited by their car.

Billy watched them go and as they disappeared around the bend, Lee appeared at his elbow, dressed in the uniform of a cemetery groundskeeper, ball cap pulled down over his eyes.

"Nice service," he commented. "Did Zhao really just finally admit I won that chess match in '79?"

"I believe he did," chuckled Billy. "So did you see anyone hanging around that might be your would-be assassin?"

"No," said Lee grumpily. "I circled around the whole time and there's nobody here except the people at the service."

"So whoever it is, he's more interested in just murdering agents than he is about gloating afterwards?"

"Yeah – which makes him a different kind of nut than usual," answered Lee. He gazed around the cemetery and back at the floral display. "You know, I thought I might get a bigger turnout."

"Just be happy you were here to see it, Scarecrow," chuckled Billy. "And just as well we didn't announce it officially. Can you imagine the circus if all your old girlfriends showed up en masse to throw themselves sobbing on the casket?"

"Speaking of which…" Lee leaned in to pluck the champagne and Amanda's bouquet off the casket. "What?" he grinned off of Billy's raised eyebrow. "They're meant for me, aren't they?"

"They are – and I expect you to save that bottle for all of us to share when we catch this guy and this is all over."

"You bet," agreed Lee. "This is going to be the elixir that brings a dead Lee Stetson back to life – and the sooner the better."

"I agree – especially before we end up with any more dead agents. So you're heading to Amanda's now?"

"Yeah – no sense in prolonging this. Nobody's going to be expecting her to come to work after this so she can be my partner for a few days. Just a few days!" he added vehemently when he saw Billy start to smile.

Lee looked down at the bouquet in his hand and grimaced. He looked up at Billy, suddenly serious again. "She was pretty upset, wasn't she? I should never have made that stupid promise. It was a joke - I never thought she'd take it literally."

"Lots of people were upset, Scarecrow, but she clung to hope a little longer, that's all. Tread lightly when you see her – it's been an emotional rollercoaster for her for the last day and you were right on one count – Amanda King does not always react the way you think she will."

Lee waved the bouquet gently and gave Billy a half-hearted smile. "Well, how upset can she be if I bring her flowers, right?"


	3. You Don't Bring Me Flowers Anymore

Amanda sat in her car in the driveway for a few minutes after getting home. She knew it had been a good idea not to go to Williamsburg – she would never have been able to continue to hide this heart-wrenching grief from her mother, not when it was so fresh. After the service, the three of them had gone to Ned's for what Francine had dubbed the Wake-Up Call – a kind of private pre-wake for just them. The owner, another of Lee's friends, had looked the other way as they'd nursed their drinks most of the afternoon and traded stories, Francine providing most of them since she'd been friends with him the longest. The laughter from hearing those stories had held the pain at bay for a few hours until at last they'd lapsed into one of those silences and it had rolled through her again.

"_I should get home," she'd said, standing up abruptly._

"_Will you be okay?" Efraim had asked, his concern written all over his face._

"_I'll be fine," she nodded. "I just need to be alone and get used to this."_

"_If you need anything, anything at all, you call me," ordered Francine._

"_I will, I promise. And like Billy said, tomorrow will be better, right?"_

"_Right," Francine said firmly. "One day at a time." She turned to Efraim. "We should go too – I want to check in at work and make sure no one else… that nothing else has happened today."_

_In that instant, Amanda really understood what it meant to be an agent – to accept that death was an expected part of your day. That you could lose a friend one day and fully expect to lose another the next. She choked back a sob and turned to the exit._

Now it was getting dark and she knew she should go inside but she felt paralyzed. Inside was home, comfort and familiarity, but right now she didn't want any of that. She wanted to yell and scream and rail at the unfairness of it all – that Lee, a man whose life was devoted to the protection of others had died in a mindless act of violence in a dark alley, alone, just as he'd always feared.

What had Lee said that day at the Jefferson Memorial?

"_If I'd died, there would have been a little ceremony and a star on the memorial wall of the Agency and after a few days, a week maybe, people would have forgotten all about me."_

"They won't forget you, Lee," she whispered, voice cracking. "I won't forget you."

She finally found the energy to drag herself from the car and head for the back door. Part of her mind absently noticed that the kitchen light was already on and assumed her mother had forgotten to turn it off before she left that day, but when she gripped the door handle to insert her key and it opened under her hand, she caught her breath.

Her mother might be scattered about many things, but she was a demon about making sure doors were locked when she left the house. Amanda pushed the door open and stuck her head in. Hearing nothing, she stepped inside quietly and let her eyes sweep the room. There was something in the air, something that reminded her of Lee, something that was almost comforting… and for a moment she relaxed. But as she stepped further in, something wasn't right and she paused, scanning the family room trying to figure out what was… off.

As she turned in place to look into the kitchen, her blood froze and she lifted a hand to quickly muffle the scream that was rising in her chest. There on the counter, displayed in one of her vases, was a bouquet of flowers. But not just any bouquet – no, she recognized this one immediately as the bouquet she had left at Lee's grave just a few hours before, and beside it, the bottle of champagne she'd watched Francine balance carefully on his casket.

She stared at the display mutely, trying to understand how it was even possible. Who would have brought them? And why here? She took a tentative step forward and ran her fingers along the petal edges, trying to confirm she wasn't imagining them, wasn't dredging them up from some deep-seated longing for a renewed connection to Lee.

Then, as she stood there, she heard it. Upstairs, someone was moving around. Heavy steps that couldn't possibly be her mother or one of the boys back from their trip for some reason. No, there was someone in her house, someone who had brought the flowers, someone who could only have one reason to be here. She stared at the phone for a beat, wondering if she could call for help, but then the sound of a muffled curse upstairs helped her make up her mind.

Holding her breath and trying to be quiet, Amanda backed up slowly, until she was outside again. She pulled the back door closed silently, then whirled and ran, scrambling into her car and reversing out of the driveway at high speed.

"_If you need anything, anything at all, you call me."_

The Agency, she thought. The Agency and Francine would keep her safe.

Inside, Lee padded down the stairs into the family room and looked around. He'd soaked through the bandage on his shoulder injury and had been upstairs looking for something new to cover it. He'd sworn mildly from the pain when he's had to pull off the medical tape, and then he'd realized he was going to need help applying a new one. He was holding the gauze he'd found in the bathroom cupboard in place as he looked around in confusion. He was certain he'd heard something but there was no sign of anyone.

"Amanda?" he called out uncertainly. No one answered.


	4. Searching for Sense

"Oh my God, what's the matter?" asked Francine as Amanda flew into the bullpen.

"He's at my house! I think he's at my house! I got home and there were flowers and champagne and I heard a noise upstairs and I don't know why he's at my house but he's there." Amanda stopped babbling and stared at Francine with a wide-eyed expectant expression

"Who's at your house?" Francine took her by the arm and led her to a chair. "Sit. Breathe. Start from the beginning."

Amanda sat, took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. "I went home," she said finally. "And the lights were on and the door was unlocked."

"But your family is away, right?" asked Francine.

"Yes," Amanda nodded. "They left for Williamsburg this morning. And at first, I thought, well you know, that they'd left the lights on and maybe the door unlocked, although that would be so unlike my mother because she always checks a dozen times when she leaves the house for things like that. Oven off, iron off, door locked, you know."

"Uh-huh," said Francine, still nodding encouragingly.

"So I went in and at first I couldn't figure out what was bothering me and then I realized." Amanda paused and gulped before going on solemnly, "My flowers."

"Your flowers?" repeated Francine, confusion clear on her face.

"Yes, my flowers, in a vase, on the counter." She was looking expectant as if she thought that should elicit a reaction.

"I'm sorry, Amanda, I'm not following. Don't you usually have flowers out?"

"Oh, but these weren't just any flowers, Francine. This was the bouquet I took to the funeral today."

Francine rocked back on her heels. "Are you sure? I mean, how can you be sure?"

"Well, there was the champagne you left too, and also the flowers still had the little card I wrote, still tied around them with the kitchen twine I used. I know some people use ribbon, but it was just a bouquet from home and string is more environmentally friendly, so that's how I know for sure."

"Are you serious?" asked Francine, her voice rising.

"Oh yes, ribbon is made from-"

"Not about the string, Amanda!" Francine almost yelled at her before she got her temper back under control. "The things we left at the cemetery this morning are sitting on your kitchen counter in Arlington? Who would do that?"

"Well, I guess I just thought it was whoever's been doing this. Although I don't know why he'd be at my house, I'm not even an agent or anyone important at all." Amanda ran out of steam before suddenly straightening back up. "Oh! And there was someone upstairs!"

"There was what?"

"I heard footsteps and I heard a man say something, and then I heard him heading downstairs so I just turned tail and ran out of the house and came here."

"You didn't stop and call the police?" asked Francine in disbelief.

"No, I just ran and the next thing I knew, I was here and I knew you'd understand without me having to go into all sorts of explanations about spies and murderers and champagne and…" She stopped and gulped. "I should have called the police. What was I thinking?"

"Hey," Francine took her hand and squeezed it. "You were running on instinct and your instinct said to come here and look for help."

"Look for Lee, you mean," responded Amanda quietly. "I got into trouble and I just looked for Lee."

"We'll all be doing that for a while," said Francine sympathetically. "He was always the good white knight who came charging in. Now sit here and calm down. I'm going to go get Efraim and we'll go back to your house and check it out."

"You'll come yourself?"

"Of course – I don't want whatever junior rookie who's stuck on night duty tramping through your house, do I? Wrecking evidence and probably shooting himself in the foot to boot."

"The rookies all seem very capable," scolded Amanda with a motherly reprimanding look.

"Well, that remains to be seen – but first we go back and see if a stealth approach will flush him out. Maybe he's still there, waiting"

"You mean, like lying in wait to kill me?" squeaked Amanda.

"Yes," said Francine, brutally. "And that, Amanda King, is why you are going to Stay In The Car when we go back, do you understand?"

Amanda almost smiled – she could hear the capital letters in Francine's tone and it sounded so much like Lee when he was exasperated. "I understand."

Francine turned to walk out of the bullpen, and as she reached the doors, they both heard someone scream out in the corridor. Amanda started to rise, until Francine turned and jabbed a finger in her direction. "Sit," she said. Amanda sat, gripping her hands together.

Francine ran down the hall and joined the gathering throng. She began to push her way through until she reached the front.

"What's going on, Sergeant? What's everybody looking at?" she quizzed the guard.

"Agent Vernon, ma'am," he answered stiffly.

"Vernon? Vernon's off duty, what's he doing here?" she asked.

The guard pointed silently to the shadow on the wall – the shadow of a man dangling from the ceiling.

Francine stared for a beat, heart in her throat, then turned to scan the crowd. Over their heads, she saw Efraim step out of the elevator and walk toward them, his pace picking up as he realized something was wrong. Jerking her head to tell him to follow, she moved back through the crowd and headed back to the bullpen.

"What's going on?" he asked quietly.

"We need to get to Amanda's house right now," she said crisply.

"What's the matter? Is she alright?"

"She's fine, she's here," said Francine, moving aside for the night janitor who was walking in the opposite direction with a ladder, obviously on his way to get the body down. "But our killer or one of his accomplices may have just murdered Vernon and he might still be in her house right now."

"What?"

"We'll explain on the way, come on."

* * *

"Billy, do you have any idea where Amanda went after the funeral?" asked Lee, frantically. "It's been hours and she still hasn't come home!"

"The last I saw of her, she was headed out with Francine and Beaman," answered Billy. "Maybe they went back to Francine's place."

"I've been calling there and there's never any answer."

"You're supposed to be dead, Scarecrow!" growled Billy down the phone. "You can't be calling people on the phone who think you're dead!"

"It's not like I'm leaving messages all over town Billy! I call, I get the machine, I hang up – but no one is answering at Francine's and Amanda still hasn't come home! Where the hell could she be?"

Billy sighed – he knew that note in Lee's voice meant he was about to do something rash. "I'll come and get you – we can start retracing their steps."

"Thanks, Billy."

Billy hung up and Jeannie glared at him across the dinner table. "Sorry, Honey," he muttered. "I have to go out for a little bit."

"Is Lee okay?" she asked, her tone softening when she saw the worry lines on his face.

"He's worried about Amanda – she didn't come home yet."

"I wasn't aware she had a curfew," teased Jeannie.

"I'm sure it's nothing," he admitted. "But it's been a bad week and we're all on edge."

She stood and came to give him a hug. "I know, and I'm sorry. You go calm Lee down and then bring him back here – there's plenty here for him to have dinner."

"If we can't find Amanda and Francine, I might just have to do that – he'll need to be tied down."

The phone rang again and they both sighed. Billy reached for the handset again.

"Melrose here. What? Vernon? _Inside_ the Agency?"

Jeannie watched, worried at her husband's obvious shock and reached to take his hand when he hung up.

"I'll be gone for a while, Honey," he said.

"As long as you come home safe to me," she said, pulling him into her arms.


	5. From Fight to Flight

Efraim turned the headlights off as they turned onto Amanda's street. "No point in announcing our arrival," he commented to Francine who nodded in agreement.

"Now, Amanda, when we get there, Efraim and I are going to split up and go in, back and front and you're going to wait here until we give you all the all clear. Then you can come in and tell us if anything is out of place" Francine had pulled out her service revolver and was checking it as she spoke.

"You mean, other than the stuff I already told you about?"

Francine grimaced. "Yeah, other than that." She peered down the street as Efraim slowed down. "What is...? Who the hell is that?" she exclaimed as a hooded figure ran down the front path of Amanda's house, jumped the fence and then leapt into a waiting car that pulled away instantly.

"Did you get the plate?" she asked Efraim.

"Sorry," he answered with a grimace. "If I hadn't had my lights off, maybe I could have seen it, but in the dark…"

"He was in my house," said Amanda from the back seat, the squeak in her voice making her panic obvious. "I really did hear someone! But what was he doing in my house?"

Efraim stopped the car and they all got out. "Wait here," he instructed Amanda, unnecessarily as it turned out as she was frozen to the sidewalk, staring at the dark windows.

"He was in my house," she repeated. She looked at the pair of agents. "What if I hadn't realized he was there?"

"But you did," replied Francine. "And now he's gone. But you stay here until we make sure it's safe." She turned to open the gate as Efraim began to skirt up the driveway, then looked back at Amanda. "In fact, how about you hop in the front seat and then you can honk the horn if you see anything. Lock yourself in."

Amanda nodded dumbly and scrambled back into the car. By the time Francine reached the front door, Efraim was already opening it from the inside.

"Doors were all locked," he announced. "So we know he's a security conscious killer, at least."

"Great," Francine rolled her eyes. "Have you checked upstairs?"

"Not yet."

The two of them quickly checked the dining and living room then went upstairs to check the bedrooms.

"Clear," Francine called out from Amanda's room.

"Clear," said Efraim emerging from the boys' room. "Hard to know if he ransacked that one, or if it's just a regular day with boys."

"Regular day, I think," answered Francine with a faint smile, "since Amanda and Dotty's rooms are fine. But someone's been here – there's blood on the bathroom sink and wrappers from bandages in the garbage can."

They went back downstairs, splitting at the landing, Efraim to the front door to call Amanda in and Francine into the kitchen. Efraim arrived beside her to find her studying the flowers and champagne, set up on the counter just as Amanda said.

"Well, gee, that's not creepy at all," he commented under his breath.

"Yeah, this is new," replied Francine, hands on her hips as she studied the display. "Up until now, it's just been notes."

"And that Jack-in-the-box thing that Lee got," Efraim reminded her.

"True," she conceded. "And the camera in his desk. You know what I'm starting to think?" she turned to him abruptly.

"That someone's been reading Agatha Christie?" he responded.

Francine nodded. "The ABC Murders, right? They murder a bunch of people to disguise the fact that they wanted to kill one specific one. What if Lee was the one?"

"Why would someone want to kill Lee that much?" asked Amanda.

Francine jumped at the soft-spoken question; she'd forgotten Amanda was there when she went into agent mode.

"Agents make a lot of enemies," Efraim pointed out.

"Yes, but usually revenge is more brutal than this," said Francine. "This guy taunted Lee over and over and now he's toying with us. And the question is-"

"Why me?" Amanda finished the sentence.

Francine and Efraim exchanged a look.

"I mean, that's the question isn't it?" Amanda pressed on. "If he already murdered Lee –" her voice caught and she had to compose herself – "Then why is he doing this to me?"

"That is exactly the question," agreed Efraim.

"And exactly why you're getting your things and coming with me now – you're coming to stay with me until we figure this out," Francine ordered.

"But what about Mother and the boys? They're only supposed to be gone for the weekend and what if they call home?"

"You can call them first and tell them the water's off or something," suggested Efraim. "Tell them you'll call when it's safe to come back."

"When it's safe…" Amanda repeated in a faint voice. "Oh my gosh."

"You go grab anything you'll need for a few days away," ordered Francine. "Oh, and have you got plastic bags somewhere? I'm going to bag this stuff up and see if there's fingerprints." Amanda pointed mutely to a drawer and then Francine shooed her up the stairs.

Efraim watched her leave then turned to Francine. "We keep saying 'he'…" he said quietly.

"But someone else was driving that car just now," she finished his thought. "So there's at least two of them. We don't know how long Vernon was there before he was found – it could have been either one of them."

"You drop me at the Agency with this stuff," he said. "And I'll start researching cases Lee and Amanda worked together and see if I can find a pattern. There must be a reason she's a target."

"That's probably a good idea," Francine nodded. "Amanda's smart enough to figure that out too and I don't want her alone when she does." She lifted the flowers out of the vase and then, using a tissue, carefully emptied out the water and placed it in a plastic bag, then did the same with the bottle. She stared at the flowers on the counter, her brow furrowed.

"What are you thinking?" asked Efraim, recognizing the look.

Francine glanced at the stairs, then lowered her voice. "I know this is a reach, but what if this guy has a thing for Amanda? What if this whole thing has been some kind of sick way to get to her?"

"You mean, he's not trying to kill her, he's trying to impress her?"

"Yeah, like what if he's setting himself up to be the guy who swoops in to save her after frightening her to death and killing Lee? I mean, this flowers and champagne thing is really creepy."

"Well, he's a good way along on the frightening her to death thing," replied Efraim thoughtfully. "But what about our accomplice theory? Who just picked him up?"

"We didn't get a good look – it could have just been a cab," she shrugged.

There was a beat of silence and then Efraim said, "We're just grasping at straws here, aren't we? Trying to make some kind of sense of his death."

"Maybe," Francine sighed. "But someone has broken into Amanda's house, and someone brought her this stuff connected to Lee – so let's still start with anything they worked on together."

Amanda appeared in the doorway to the family room, clutching an overnight bag. "I'm ready."

Francine turned to her with a smile, aiming to disguise her new worries. "And so are we – let's get out of here."

* * *

"Thanks for this, Billy. I was going crazy sitting in that house alone worrying," said Lee as they sped away from Maplewood Drive.

"We're going to go back to my house and Jeannie will feed you while I start making some phone calls," answered his boss.

"Billy!" Lee began to protest. "I can't just sit around and do nothing! I should be out looking for Amanda!"

"Scarecrow – may I remind you that you are supposed to be dead? You can't just walk around in public looking for anyone!"

Lee made a growling noise under his breath.

"You'll feel better when you've eaten something, Lee," Billy consoled him. "And once I've made those calls to get people looking for Amanda – who's probably just gone to Williamsburg with her family - we'll start trying to figure out who's behind all this."

Lee grunted, acknowledging that Billy was probably right about Amanda- if she was upset, she'd probably want to be with her family for comfort. "Fine – we'll do it your way."

"Nice of you to acknowledge I'm the boss here, Scarecrow," interjected Billy sarcastically.

"But I know where I want to start," said Lee, immediately. "I want to go to that apartment where Jean-Claude was staying when he was killed. You can bet the police didn't bother to check it out – it may be our best source for possible clues."

Billy nodded. "You're probably right. We'll head there tonight." There was a beat and then his deep chuckle burst out of him. He glanced sideways at Lee and seeing his confusion, began to laugh harder.

"What's so funny?" asked Lee

"I'm just picturing you dragging Amanda down to help you search a room of the King Edward Hotel," Billy finally managed to get out.

Lee was silent for a moment, then began to laugh as well. "Can you imagine? She'd probably insist on cleaning everything before we left!"

"She'd lecture the desk clerk on simple décor tips to brighten the place up."

"Daily flower arrangements delivered to every room."

The two men were heaving with laughter now until Lee suddenly turned sober. "We have to find her, Billy. She was never supposed to think I was dead for this long."

"We will, Lee, don't worry."


	6. We All Have Our Hang-Ups

"Efraim will call us once he's gone over the files and we can start trying to figure out a suspect," said Francine leading the way into her apartment. She quickly did the safety survey she always did on entering – and that she'd been even more religious about since this whole thing started. "How about you see if there's anything in the fridge while I check my messages?"

"Is your fridge going to be any better than Lee's?" Amanda quipped. "He only ever has moldy cheese and leftover Chinese food." She paused and corrected herself quietly. "Had."

"Efraim's been a good influence on me, so the short answer is yes," said Francine, pushing the button on her answering machine. "But I'm not sure when I last stocked up."

"There's a couple of lamb chops in here I could boil up," teased Amanda.

"Boil?" said Francine, glancing into the kitchen. "Even I know that sounds wrong."

"Well, if you don't know how long they've been here, that might be what's required to kill anything lethal on them… what's the matter?" Amanda abruptly changed topic as she watched Francine with concern.

"My messages," replied Francine tersely. "It's nothing but twenty hang-ups."

"Could it just be a problem with the machine?" asked Amanda, walking back into the room.

"I don't think so." Francine looked up, her face tense. "I think it's someone checking to see if I'm here. Or trying to frighten me."

"Well, if that was the case, they don't know you very well," said Amanda.

"No, they don't, do they?" answered Francine with a half-smile that disappeared as she stared at the answering machine. "But I'm also no fool. If this is the same guy who killed some of the best agents I've ever known, we can't take this lightly. There's something weird happening at your house and now this – he's telling us that he knows we're connected to Lee. And if we're his newest targets, it's time to go underground and fight from the shadows, just like he's doing."

"Go underground?" repeated Amanda. "You mean, like go to a safe house?"

"Like a safe house," Francine nodded. "But not a safe house."

"You've lost me."

"Whoever this is, he's been getting in and out of the Agency – we can't trust that anyone in the Agency knows where we are, so we can't use any of the known places."

"Wait, no one at the Agency?"

"No one," said Francine firmly. "Well, except Efraim, of course," she amended off Amanda's amused look.

"Yes, I think we can cross him off the list of suspects. And Mr. Melrose," added Amanda. "Oh, now look," she rushed on at Francine's doubtful expression. "You know it's not Mr. Melrose and you can't just disappear and worry him. Not right after… everything."

"You're right," Francine conceded. "I'll get Efraim to tell him once we're safely somewhere else."

"So where are we going?"

"I haven't figured that out yet, but it needs to be the last place anyone would look for either of us."

"If Lee was here, he'd probably say that was anywhere with terrible hygiene and terrible room service," Amanda chuckled.

"Like his apartment," replied Francine. "Oh!"

The two women looked at each other wide-eyed.

"We couldn't," said Amanda. "Could we?"

"Of course we could. He'd want us somewhere safe, wouldn't he?" argued Francine.

"I guess so… And I do still have a key from feeding his fish that time…"

"See – that's a sign the planets have aligned in our favor!" Francine glanced at her watch. "Efraim's probably at the Agency by now. I'll call him before we go and let him know, in case he calls here. Now let me go grab my emergency bag."

"This is crazy," Amanda sighed as Francine vanished into the bedroom. "I mean, this guy knows where I live, where you live – how do we know he isn't watching us right now and he'll just follow us to Lee's?"

"Now you're starting to think like an agent," Francine complimented her as she reappeared.

"You mean, like a paranoid person?"

"We prefer to think of it as proactive. But you're right about him watching – so we're going to go out the back way and walk over to Madison Avenue to grab a cab to Lee's." She picked up the phone and quickly dialled Efraim's desk and outlined the change in plan.

"Is this really necessary?" he complained.

"Hopefully not, but do you really want me to take the chance?" she asked.

"No," he sighed. "Call me when you get there."

"Sure will. And remember, don't tell anyone but Billy where we are."

"Honey," he mocked her. "Did you seriously just tell me not to forget something?"

Francine snorted out a laugh. "What was I thinking? I'll call you in 20."

"You better. Or I'm calling out the National Guard."

She hung up and turned to Amanda. "Ready?"

"Ready," sighed Amanda, picking up her bag.

The two of them slipped into the outer corridor and then down the hall to the rear fire exit. A minute later, they were disappearing down the alley into the night.

* * *

Lee tapped on Francine's apartment door, giving Billy a worried look when there was no answer. "Her car is downstairs," he said. "Why isn't she answering?"

Billy frowned. "She could just be at Efraim's."

"You said yourself that the messaging service at the Agency said she hadn't left a forwarding message! She'd never forget to let you know how to get hold of her – not with everything that's going on."

"You're right." Billy sighed. Lee had talked him into coming over here based on nothing more than a "hinky" feeling and now it seemed he might be right. Vernon was dead, Amanda was nowhere to be found, and now, no Francine. "Got your lock pick?"

"Of course," Lee grinned, pulling it out of his jacket pocket and getting to work.

A few seconds later, the apartment door swung open and the two men stepped in, guns drawn. The apartment was too small to hide much and it was immediately apparent that no one was here. Billy walked to the phone and dialled the Agency.

"Francine Desmond, please," he barked at the night operator.

"One moment, please." There was a series of clicks and then a male voice answered.

"Daniels."

"Daniels? I asked for Desmond!" barked Billy.

"Oh well, I'm using her desk for the moment," apologized the agent. "With the two of you out of the office and Scarecrow dead and now Vernon… well, everyone's huddled in the bullpen. Safety in numbers, that kind of thing."

Billy rolled his eyes, then took in what Daniels had said. "So she's not there? What about Amanda King?"

Lee stood straighter, alerted by Billy's tone.

"No, but I think I saw Beaman come in a while back. Said he was headed to the vault to look some stuff up. You want me to see if I can find him?"

"No, I can't wait for that. I'm on my way to investigate something and then I'll be in when I can. Hold the fort for me, Daniels."

"Sure thing, Billy. Just hope this fort isn't the Alamo."

"Chin up, Daniels. This is no job for a pessimist."

Billy hung up and met Lee's inquiring gaze. "They're not there and they're not with Efraim."

"My God Billy, what if this maniac has them?"

"We need to figure out who 'he' is and fast," agreed Billy. "Let's go check that room at the King Edward, Scarecrow."


	7. Rooms with a View

Efraim walked back into his small office and dumped the stack of computer printouts on his desk, just as the phone began to ring.

"Hey Honey, we're home," said a cheerful voice at the end of the line when he answered.

"Thank God for that," he said, flopping down into his chair. "No problem getting there?"

"Not a one. No one followed the cab and we got in while the doorman was on a bathroom break. No one knows we're here."

"Good. I've pulled the files on building access – I want to see if cross-referencing who was in the building tonight and the night before Lee found that camera will narrow it down any."

"Good thinking," said Francine. "Oh! And then see if any of the people left over weren't there on any of the nights that outside agents were killed."

"Way ahead of you," grinned Efraim. "That was the next step right after who has access to the lab where they found Vernon."

"Stay safe," Francine cautioned him. "This is getting weird."

"You too. Gotta go, someone's here," he replied, looking up at the figure in his office door.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Beaman," said Agent Daniels. "But uh, Mr. Melrose called and was wondering if you'd seen Francine or Amanda? I offered to find you but he said it could wait."

Efraim studied him for a minute. He didn't know Daniels all that well and Francine's words of caution were ringing in his ears. Why would Billy be looking for them after hours? "I haven't seen them for a while," he answered slowly. "We went to the funeral, of course, and then for a drink and we all went home. Did he say why he was asking?"

"No, so I guess it wasn't important," said Daniels. "Just figured I'd ask in case he calls in again. Try and look good for the big boss, you know how it is."

"Yes, I do," agreed Efraim, affably. "And I'll do that by getting on with my work."

"Oh yeah! Sorry I bugged you – I'll let you get on with that. So what are you working on anyway?" Daniels asked, craning his neck.

"Just attendance statistics," replied Efraim. "Who's been missing work, coming in late, that sort of thing. It's almost time for the annual budget audit, you know, and they're always looking for ways to cut dead wood."

"Oh," gulped Daniels. "Guess I'll be getting back to my desk then."

Efraim waited until he was out of sight, then began poring over the stacks of computer paper.

* * *

"There's nothing here, Scarecrow," commented Billy as he flipped through all the books on the narrow shelf. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," he read out loud from one of them. "Well, it was definitely the worst of times for Jean-Claude."

"Well, it was a long shot anyway," agreed Lee. "Wait a minute – what's this?" he hauled on the TV set, pulling it away from the wall. "There's some kind of box hooked up to this."

Billy came closer and peered at it. "That's one of those Nieman boxes. Why would a guy living in a dump like this have one of those?"

"Darn good question." Lee finished prying it off the set and flipped it over, studying it. "Do you think maybe it's a transmitter or something disguised as a Nieman box?"

Billy shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, but I'll have the lab boys check it over." He looked around the room, noticing a small slip of paper sticking out from the sofa cushions, and leaned down to tug it free. "Bonnie-View Drive-In? Isn't that the one that plays all the old B-movies?"

"Yeah," Lee nodded. "Guess our French friend was a fan."

"Don't you think it's strange that a man who has a bookshelf full of Tolstoy, Dickens and Sartre would like movies like that?" Billy wondered out loud.

Lee glanced around the room, spotting a newspaper from a few days before. He flipped through it quickly until he found the movie ads, then looked up at Billy with wide eyes. "It's Murder Month at the Bonnie-View" he said, holding out the paper to Billy. "Mickey Spillane, Buzz Blade, Femmes Fatales…"

"That sounds more up our killer's alley than Jean-Claude's." Billy nodded, then gestured toward the door. "Okay, I'm taking you back to my place and then I'll go drop this Nieman thing at the Agency."

"Can we swing by Arlington and see if Amanda's home yet? Maybe she just went out for the evening."

"Sure we can. I'm sure she's back by now," Billy conceded to the plea in Lee's voice. He didn't give voice to that little doubt in the back of his head that said _"But what if she isn't?"_

* * *

"Did you give this list to Billy?" asked Francine, surveying Efraim's notes as she munched on the pizza he'd brought over.

"No, I didn't want to leave it anywhere someone else might find it," he admitted. "I'll find him in person when I go back in the morning."

"I can't believe you narrowed it down to only fourteen people," Amanda commented.

"Well, I had a lot of data points to work with," said Efraim. "Since people can't be in two places at the same time, unless-"

"Unless there's two of them," Amanda completed his thought. "Is that possible?"

Efraim and Francine exchanged a look, both thinking about that mysterious pick-up outside Amanda's house. "It's possible," admitted Francine. "But let's eliminate the people on this list first." She ran her pen across one of the names. "Starting with Fred Fielder. He's clumsy but he's no murderer."

"He wasn't even really on the list," said Efraim. "I just didn't want to have 13 people on there."

"Superstitious?" asked Amanda.

"No, I just dislike prime numbers being associated with anything criminal," answered Efraim seriously. "They deserve better."

Amanda and Francine exchanged smiles. "You're so cute when you're nerdy, Honey," said Francine, turning back to the list. "Okay, so who are our favorites on here?"

"I think we can eliminate Howard Parker," Amanda pointed to one of the names. "He's got a broken arm and I don't think he could have gotten Agent Vernon up… there."

Efraim nodded. "Good point."

"Who's Russell Sinclair?" asked Francine. "Is he the quiet one in Cryptography? He always gives me the creeps."

"I don't know who he is – he's just on the log-in sheet for the right time periods," answered Efraim.

"The name seems familiar," said Amanda, screwing up her face as she concentrated. She shook her head. "It'll come to me – probably right when I'm dropping off to sleep."

"Doesn't it bother you that none of us can place him?" asked Francine. "Surely between the three of us, we know almost everyone at every level of the Agency.""

"It does," agreed Efraim. "If I can't remember him, it has to be a name I've never seen on any training request, computer equipment, you name it. I'll check with Personnel first thing in the morning."

He got up and collected the scattered plates and the pizza box. "I'll head out and leave you to get your beauty sleep."

"How did you get in here anyway?" asked Amanda.

"Mr. Feller the doorman knows me. I just told him I was coming up to clear the apartment of any government papers Lee might have left here." He leaned down to kiss Francine lightly and headed out the door, Francine following to lock it behind him.

"Well, I sure hope whoever is doing this wasn't someone Lee knew," said Francine. "If the doorman is just going to let any Tom, Dick or Harry up here." She gave off a yawn and stretched. "I'm exhausted but I hope I can actually sleep – this is all just crazy."

She looked up as Amanda let out a choked sob.

"It just hits me in waves, you know?" Amanda gulped. "I've been on case mode ever since I got home and found those flowers and there hasn't really been time to think about anything else until now… and now we're in his apartment and we're surrounded by his stuff and getting ready to get some sleep and it should be Lee! It should be Lee getting ready to climb into his own bed in his own apartment and it's just not fair! Why him? Why Lee?" She gave into the heaving sobs at that point, all the emotions of the day finally spilling over.

Francine moved quickly to sit beside her, and wrapped her arms tightly around her until Amanda finally got herself back under control.

"I'm sorry – it's just so unfair," she said, her voice still hoarse with emotion. "And I'm just going to miss him so much."

"I know." Francine straightened and wiped her own eyes. "But we'll get the bastard who did this, if it's the last thing I do."

"He'd have done the same for you," agreed Amanda. She glanced around the room, her eye lighting on an old wedding photo. She stood up and walked to pick it up. "Do you think this is his parents?"

Francine came for a closer look. "Yes, I think so."

"His poor uncle," murmured Amanda. "To have lost all his family now."

"Well, he and Lee didn't really get along, so it may not affect him much," said Francine.

"Oh no, that's not right!" Amanda turned a troubled expression on her. "His uncle called him at Christmas – and then Lee took a few days off to go visit. He said they'd really talked and gotten a lot of stuff cleared up. Oh my gosh, do you think anyone's told him yet?"

Francine looked taken aback. "Well, he'd have to have been told, Amanda! He's Lee's next of kin."

"But then why wasn't he at the funeral? He was Lee's only relative."

"I don't know, but he's pretty high up in the Air Force – he might have had duties that kept him from being able to get here fast enough. But Billy will know – we'll ask him."

"I'd like to send a condolence card," said Amanda. "He should know Lee had people who cared about him." Her voice broke as another small sob escaped.

"I'll make sure we get his address," Francine comforted her. "I'll send one too." She stood up and pulled Amanda to her feet. "Come on, you should get some sleep. I'll take the couch, you take the bed."

"Oh!" Amanda looked slightly shocked. "Oh no, that would feel so… weird. I mean, I've slept there before, but Lee was here."

Francine's eye brows shot up. "Something you'd like to tell me, Amanda?"

"What?" Amanda stared at her, then covered her mouth to hold in the escaping giggle. "Oh no! I didn't mean that! I mean, I didn't sleep with Lee! I meant… when he had that concussion and I stayed here, he made me get some sleep in his room." She wiped her eyes and started to giggle again. "You know, nothing made Lee laugh harder than when I said something like that by mistake. And it was worth feeling silly about it to see those dimples." She sighed. "He'd really have laughed at that one."

"And he'd really have wanted you to take the bed," responded Francine. "He'd expect me to look after you."

"Are you sure? I don't mind taking the couch."

"Not at all. For one thing, I want to stay somewhere I can keep an eye on the door in case that doorman lets anybody else up here. And besides," she gave Amanda a half-smile. "I did sleep with Lee in that bed and you're right, it would be weird."

"Oh my gosh! Francine!" Amanda looked equally mortified and amused.

"Don't ever tell Efraim I said that. He knows Lee and I dated, but he likes to think we were like high school sweethearts or something."

"What was that like? Not the sleeping part!" Amanda rushed to amend yet another foot-in-mouth moment. "I meant, well, what broke you up?"

Francine shrugged. "Nothing in particular. We just liked each better as friends than as lovers and he was looking for something else, I guess."

"Sounds like me and my ex-husband," Amanda nodded.

"I guess it just seemed logical that we should date, but love isn't really logical, is it?"

"No, it sure isn't. But you hit the jackpot this time didn't you?"

"I did. Now go to bed, Amanda. Tomorrow will be better."

"That's what Mr. Melrose told me."

"He always says it, and he's always right."

Amanda gave Francine another hug, then walked slowly into the bedroom. She dropped her bag on a chair and looked around disconsolately before moving to sit on the edge of the bed. She picked up Lee's pillow and wrapped her arms around it, burying her face in it so that Francine wouldn't hear her start to cry again.


	8. It Will All Be Better Tomorrow

"Good morning, Scarecrow, I've got a job for you."

Lee gripped the phone tightly as if he could make Billy's words come more quickly. "What is it, Billy? Have you found Amanda and Francine yet?"

"No, I'm still trying to find Beaman to see if he knows anything and I swear he's avoiding me. Everyone says the same thing – he left just before I got here or he got here just after I left."

"You don't suspect him, do you?"

"No, of course not – but I do worry that he's taken a page out of your book and gone rogue!"

Lee winced. "Yeah, I wouldn't put it past him either."

"Well, we'll deal with him in a minute. But first – we've gone back through all of our personnel records as you suggested."

"And you found something?"

"It's what I didn't find. It turns out that some of our employees have incomplete records. We're missing employment data, birthdate, and some background details. They were all hired around the same time by the same personnel officer."

"Yeah, well, I think I should talk to that personnel officer."

"Well, she's not with us any longer, she retired about three years ago. I've got a last known address for her – lucky for us, it looks like she retired in town. But there's something else, Lee. That Nieman box? It was the real deal."

"Not a transmitter then?" asked Lee, disappointed.

"No, but it did yield something useful. The box was turned on at 1 am the night Jean-Claude died."

"Didn't they peg his death as happening before midnight?"

"They did – so his killer must have been a pretty cool cucumber if he hung around to watch TV."

"So what was so important that he just had to watch it in the middle of a crime scene?"

"Now that's where it gets interesting," Billy answered. "He was watching Buzz Blade."

"You're kidding."

"Would I kid about this? Our man is obviously a pretty keen Buzz Blade fan. That might help us narrow it down."

"You think that Personnel lady's going to remember someone with bad taste in movies?"

"You never know what pulling a thread is going to free up, Scarecrow. Now grab a pen and I'll give you the address. Jeannie can drive you - that'll be faster than calling a cab." He reeled it off, then finished with, "Go find out what you can and get back to me. I'm going to go track down Beaman and get busy finding Amanda and Francine."

* * *

Efraim had arrived sometime earlier, eager to see if the lab techs had found anything useful on the vase or the champagne bottle. He glanced at his watch as he walked along the corridor – it was still too early for anyone in Personnel to be in the office, so Russell Sinclair was going to be a mystery for a little while longer, but the techs were a 24-hour operation and they might have some answers by now.

"Hey Jake, you got anything for me?" he asked as he walked into the small office beside the main lab.

"I do, but it's not going to do you any good," replied the technician on duty, standing up and walking across the room with a folder.

"No prints? Or just no one in the system?" sighed Efraim in disappointment. He'd really hoped that fingerprint evidence would lead them like an arrow to whoever was doing this.

"Oh there's fingerprints all right," said Jake. "Just nothing that's going to help you." he looked around and lowered his voice. "I don't like to talk bad about anybody, especially ones that are… well… I just hope you're training the newbies how to handle evidence better than this was."

Efraim cocked an eyebrow and waited.

"Well, when they collected this, they got their own fingerprints all over it!"

Everything got a lot clearer. "Oh! I should have told you the champagne belonged to Agent Desmond originally. Her prints were expected."

"Really? Well then, now I'm wondering what kind of evidence you were looking for," said Jake with a leer which vanished a beat later. "Not that it matters now, I guess," he added with a mumble as he held out the file folder. Efraim took it and the man looked at him with a small shrug before turning away.

Efraim stared for a beat, then turned and walked back out into the corridor. With a quick glance to make sure the area was free of foot traffic and he wouldn't crash into anyone, he set off for his office, opening the folder and beginning to read. The information he was looking for was about halfway down the page.

_Bottle: Fingerprints, two sets. Identified in system. Desmond, F. Stetson, L._

_Vase: Fingerprints, two sets. Identified in system. Stetson, L. King. A._

He stopped dead in his tracks, shook his head and read that again.

_Stetson, L._

Except that was impossible. The bottle had Francine's prints, obviously. The vase had Amanda's prints, also obviously. But…

The penny dropped.

"You son of a bitch!" he bellowed down the empty corridor. "You heartless, lying, _alive_ son of a bitch!" He took a deep breath and collected himself. "You're getting ahead of yourself, Efraim," he started to give himself a lecture. "Examine the evidence, clear away all the possibilities, come to an informed conclusion." He gave himself another little shake. "And then you can kill him."

He strode down the hall, taking the stairs up to the training level and his office, trying to burn off some of his anger. He'd pretty much managed it too, by the time he picked up the phone and dialled Lee's apartment. There was no answer for a few rings, then he heard the click as it connected, but no one said anything.

_Of course _he realized. "Francine, it's me," he said, quickly.

"Thank God. I can't believe we didn't work out a code before you left last night," she answered, then yawned. "Why are you calling so early?"

"I have a question. I hope it's a stupid question," he said. He turned his back on the door and hunched over, still in disbelief he could even be asking this.

"Okaaay," Francine drawled. "What's the stupid question?"

"That bottle of champagne. Where did you get it?"

"That's your stupid question? Okay, I'll play along. I bought it at that liquor store that Lee always went to over on Wisconsin. The guy there knew his favorite brand."

Efraim closed his eyes and asked, "When? When did you buy it?"

"The morning of the funeral. I bought it, polished it up for the occasion and stuck a ribbon on it. Look, what is so exciting about that bottle? What did the lab guys find on it?" There was silence and then she exclaimed, "The fingerprints? Do you know who left it at Amanda's house? Who was it?"

He took a deep breath. "They found two sets of prints on the bottle. Yours. And Lee's."

The silence at the end of the line went on for so long that he began to wonder if they'd been disconnected or if she'd fainted.

"Francine?" he said, uncertainly. "Honey, are you still there?"

"I was counting to ten, but I'm still angry, so now I'm counting to a hundred," she said, and he could hear the rage vibrating in her voice. "The only way his prints could be on that bottle is if-"

"He's alive," Efraim completed the thought. "His prints were on the vase too, but I thought that might make sense if he'd been at Amanda's at some point, but they couldn't be on the bottle unless he picked it up off his casket."

"I'm going to kill him," muttered Francine angrily.

"If Lee Stetson is really alive, you'll be second in line to kill him," said Efraim forcefully.

A loud crash behind him sent him six inches off his chair, yelping and dropping the phone. He whirled to find Patch the janitor looking apologetic.

"Sorry, Mr. Beaman," he said. "I didn't mean to disturb you, I was just getting the trash and dropped the can."

"That's fine, Patch," Efraim made an effort to smile at him, as he tried to get his racing heart to slow down. "You just startled me."

"Sorry, again," said the janitor as he backed out of the office. "I'll see you later, Mr. Beaman."

Efraim nodded, then stood up and closed the door after him, before picking up the phone again.

"Sorry about that. Look, I'm going to go find Billy and get some answers. Can you sit tight there for a bit until we figure this out?"

"I'm not going anywhere. I just hope you-know-who shows up here so that I can have a crack at him."

"Ah. I take it Amanda is there now?" he asked.

"Yes, and I'm going to wait for you to confirm that before I do anything."

"Good idea. I'll get back to you as soon as I know. And if Lee does show up? Promise me you'll leave him slightly alive because I want in on that."

"I promise to consider it."

"Good enough."

* * *

Billy didn't have to go looking for Beaman because the man in question had just showed up in his doorway.

"Beaman! Thank God – do you have any idea where Francine and Amanda are? We haven't been able to get in touch with either of them since the funeral!"

"We?" said Beaman meaningfully. He stepped into the office and carefully closed the door behind him, then leaned back against it.

Billy couldn't quite decipher the expression on his face. His heart clenched, wondering if he'd come to confirm his worst fears about Francine and Amanda's disappearance. "Efraim? What's wrong?"

"I need to ask you something and I really need you to answer truthfully." He pushed his glasses back up his nose and looked at Billy expressionlessly.

"Well, if it's a question with need to know…"

"Oh, believe me, I need to know this."

"What did you want to ask?"

"Is Lee alive?"

For just a moment, Billy thought about denying it and in that moment, Efraim let out a mirthless bark of laughter.

"Son of a bitch, he is," he murmured, shaking his head. "We went to his funeral and he didn't." He leaned over and put his hands on his knees, shaking his head as Billy walked to the office window and closed the blinds.

"Sit," Billy ordered.

While Efraim walked forward and flopped into one of the chairs, glowering at him, Billy walked back around his desk and sat down, leaning forward on crossed arms.

"Actually he was at the funeral," he began. "He was watching to see if the man who tried to kill him showed up."

"So someone did try then?"

"Oh yes and they almost succeeded too. Lee was attacked in his car and was stabbed. That much was true. The good news is that the wound wasn't too deep and the killer was interrupted before he could finish the job."

"I should be happy to hear that but I'm having a hard time getting past being pissed off," admitted Efraim. "So why the fake death?"

"It seemed like the perfect opportunity. If the killer thought Lee was dead, he wouldn't be expecting him to be hunting him."

"But why lie to us? You can't possibly think any of us were responsible?"

Billy understood immediately that Efraim meant the three friends and not the Agency in general. "Of course, we didn't. But we thought it would look more realistic if you thought it was real, even if it was only for a day."

"Only for a day?"

"Lee left the funeral and went straight to Amanda's. He knew her family was out of town and figured he could hide out there. The killer's been concentrating on agents, so it seemed like the safest place – she's new enough to still be under the radar and not an agent. But then she never came home after the funeral! Do you have any idea where she might have gone? We haven't been able to find her - or Francine for that matter."

"They've been hiding," Efraim spat out. "Because they thought they were next."

"Why would they think that?" Billy asked in honest confusion. "Did they get one of the notes?"

"They thought that because when Amanda got home, she found a bouquet of flowers on the counter that she'd just left on a casket that morning and there was someone moving around upstairs! And funnily enough, it never occurred to her that the guy upstairs might be the guy whose funeral she'd just been to!"

"Oh lord." Billy could suddenly see it all clearly. "So she ran?"

"Of course she ran! She ran right here where we'd just found Vernon dead and then, as icing on the cake, when Francine took her home to her place for safety, they found twenty hang-up calls on the answering machine and assumed the killer was after everyone associated with Lee!"

Billy winced leaned back in his chair. "Those were all Lee – he was getting panicky when Amanda didn't come home," he explained apologetically. "So where are they now? Are they okay?"

Efraim smiled tiredly. "They're fine. They're hiding in Lee's apartment."

Billy couldn't hold in his bark of laughter, he was so relieved to hear they were alright.

"So where's Lee?" asked Efraim. "Is he still at Amanda's?"

"No, I brought him back to my place to keep him from going out and tearing Washington apart to find her – we thought… well, you can imagine what we thought."

"Serves you right," muttered Efraim. "Okay, maybe not," he went on, off Billy's raised brow. "But the girls have been through hell in the last 48 hours and most of it was completely unnecessary!"

"What can I say? It seemed like a good idea at the time," Billy shrugged. "Anyway, Lee's out looking for an ex-Personnel employee. We found a bunch of information missing in files from her time and we're trying to figure out if there's a link to anyone here since it's obviously someone with insider knowledge."

"We've been trying to figure that out too," interrupted Efraim. "And I got it narrowed down to about a dozen names of people whose comings and goings here match the murder times." He pulled the folded sheet of paper from his jacket pocket and smoothed it out on Billy's desk.

"I don't suppose any of them are Buzz Blade fans, are they?" quipped Billy as he pulled the list closer and began to peruse it.

"Buzz Blade?" asked Efraim in confusion.

"Lee and I found a couple of pieces of evidence that suggest our guy is a fan. It's a long shot," Bill replied, waving his hand in a dismissive motion.

"Buzz Blade? Really? Wasn't that that terrible spy show back when I was a kid?"

"Yeah," answered Billy, looking up. "It was really popular but then the star, Russell Sinclair, was injured and disfigured in a set accident and of course, that put an end to the show."

"Oh my God!" Efraim almost leapt across the desk to point to the name at the bottom of the list. "Russell Sinclair works here! How did no one know that?"

"He works here?" asked Billy incredulously. "I thought I knew pretty much everyone and I don't think I know anyone by that name." He pressed the speaker button on his desk phone and punched a few buttons.

"Personnel department, Mildred speaking."

"Mildred, Billy Melrose here. Can you look up a name for me real quick? I need to know what department does Russell Sinclair works in."

"Oh well, Mr. Melrose, he doesn't really work in a department per se," Mildred tittered. "He's part of our maintenance team."

"Maintenance?"

In the few seconds before Mildred answered, Efraim suddenly saw it all clearly. _Invisible, unknown, access to everywhere… and disfigured_.

"Patch!" he yelled. "Russell Sinclair is Patch!"

"Well, he doesn't really like to be called that," said Mildred sternly, but she got no further before Billy had hung up on her and was punching new numbers.

"He was at the funeral!" Billy groaned as he waited for an answer, "We checked all over that cemetery for a hidden murderer and he was right under our nose the whole time!"

Someone at the end of the line answered.

"Security, find me Patch Sinclair from Maintenance right now!" Billy thundered into the phone.

"He was in my office this morning," said Efraim in sudden horror. He went pale and shot to his feet. "Oh my God, he heard me! He heard me tell Francine that Lee is alive!"

Billy stared at him in stupefaction and in the silence, they could both hear the security officer at the end of the line reply. "It looks like he left the building about twenty minutes ago – do you want me to call his pager and get him back here?"

"Yes!" the two men shouted in unison.

"Will do!" said the officer cheerfully.

The call disconnected and they were left staring at each other.

"He won't answer that page. He'll be looking for Lee to finish the job," said Efraim.

"And the first place he'll look is Lee's apartment!"

They both dove for the phone, but Billy reached it first, pounding in Lee's phone number by muscle memory. They both held their breath as it rang and rang before the machine kicked in.

Efraim grabbed the handset. "Francine? It's me! Pick up! Pick up!" When there was still no answer, he shouted "It's Patch! The Agency janitor! Whatever you do, don't let him in the apartment! We're on our way!"

* * *

The three people in Lee's apartment stared at the phone.

"They're on the way?" smiled Russell Sinclair. "How lovely. So many birds with one stone."


	9. Through the Haze of Memory

Lee had found Mrs. Peters without any difficulty at the retirement home but getting her to talk had taken a little longer. She'd recoiled at the sight of him and he'd brought her outside to sit in the sunshine where maybe she wouldn't feel so hemmed in by his presence.

"I'm sorry for tracking you down, Mrs. Peters," he began, using his gentlest tone. "I wanted to ask you a little bit about your days at the Agency."

"Oh, I was such a mess then," she dithered. "Tension, pressure, ulcers, migraines. Going to work was like having my fingernails pulled out."

"Mrs. Peters, when you were a personnel officer at the Agency, you interviewed and hired a lot of people."

She nodded in agreement. "Oh, that place chewed 'em up and spit 'em out."

Lee had to agree – he'd seen more than his fair share of burnouts over the years. "Yeah. I know. The thing is, there are certain irregularities in a few of the job applications that you processed…"

Mrs. Peters began to look panicky. "Is that why you're here? Am I in trouble?"

"No, no, of course not," Lee soothed her. "But I do have one question for you, and it may seem a little odd, but does "Buzz Blade, Secret Spy" mean anything to you?"

Mrs. Peters may have worked for a spy agency but she would have been a lousy poker player. The look of guilt on her face was unmistakable and he leaned in closer.

"Oh!" she murmured in a weak voice. "You know about that?"

"We don't know enough, Mrs. Peters but if you tell me what you know, we may keep some people from getting murdered."

"Oh my." She blinked at him, while he tried to look as encouraging as possible. Finally she took a deep breath and began to talk. "Russell Sinclair was very successful in his Buzz Blade television series, so successful that he wanted to get out of the show so he could make the Buzz Blade movie."

"I remember."

"Well, during the making of the film, there was a terrible accident on the last day of the production. He was almost killed. After a year of treatment, Russell finally came out of the hospital, terribly disfigured. No career, no money, and that's when I met him."

"How exactly did you meet him, Mrs. Peters?"

"He showed up at the Agency one day, begging for a job." She began wringing her hands, obviously desperate to make Lee understand. "He had played a secret agent for so many years, I think he thought he really was one. And he'd been one of my favorite actors for years and I just wanted to help him."

"So you hired him."

"Yes," she nodded. "Janitor, night shift. Non-classified levels. That was fifteen years ago. He's had several more operations since then that did improve his appearance, but his self-image was shot."

"And you promised you'd never tell."

"He'd had such a terrible life after the accident," she explained. "Losing his life's work, losing an eye…" She shrank back as Lee straightened up as he realized who she was talking about. "And now you think he may kill someone?" she asked timidly.

"I think he already has," said Lee, looking apologetic as she looked at him in horror. "And I think he tried to kill me."

"Oh no," Mrs. Peters looked horrified. "I never thought… He was always so lovely to me…"

"It's not your fault," Lee reassured her. "You did your best to help someone in a bad situation. I think maybe he had some kind of shellshock from the accident – it wasn't anything you did. In fact, your kindness probably kept him on an even keel for many years."

"Do you think so? You think I helped?"

Lee channelled all the kindness he knew Amanda would be showing right now. "I really do. Now let me help you back to your room, Mrs. Peters."

Once he'd seen her safely back inside, Lee moved quickly to get back to the parking lot where Jeanie Melrose was waiting for him.

"We finally got a break!" he told her exultantly. "I know who it is!"

"Well, that's marvellous, Lee! You mean you don't have to be dead anymore?"

Lee tossed his head back and laughed. "I don't have to be dead anymore!" he whooped.

"So what's the first thing you want to do with your new life?" she asked, putting the car into gear and pulling out onto the street.

"I want my car back," he groaned. "Not that I don't appreciate you driving me around this morning, but if you could just drop me at my apartment, that would be great."

"Are you sure? You get to just come back to life?" asked Jeannie, doubtfully.

"Oh I'm sure there's some hoops I'll have to jump through but Billy kept the death stuff to a minimum. But the only reason I had to be out of sight was to figure out who was behind this and now that I know that, I can return from the crypt."

"Well, welcome back," Jeannie said with a huge grin. "You know, it just hasn't been the same around here with you dead."

"Thanks, Jeannie. It's good to be back!"

* * *

The look on Mr. Feller's face a few minutes later was priceless; Lee wished he could have had a photo of it as he sauntered in the front door and greeted him as if he'd simply been away on vacation.

"Mr. Stetson?" he croaked. "Is it really you?"

"Sure is, Mr. Feller," he replied cheerfully. "Anything happen while I was away?"

"Away?" repeated the doorman. "I thought you were dead!"

"Oh well, you know what Mark Twain said about death and rumors," grinned Lee, heading for the elevator

Feller drew himself up stiff and glared at him. "Well, be that as it may, I certainly wouldn't have let that man into your apartment if I hadn't thought you were really dead!"

Lee froze in his tracks and spun to look at him. "You let someone into my apartment?"

"He said he was from your office" answered Fellers defensively. "I'm sure he'd been around before and he just flashed his badge and said he needed to check if you had anything classified left in there." He trailed off at Lee's expression. "They told me you were dead! How am I supposed to know who's allowed in and who's not? Other than your lady friends, of course."

Lee waved his hands trying to get him to stop. "Mr. Feller, is he still up there?"

The doorman brightened. "Oh no! That was last night! He left hours ago!"

"Oh good."

"It's that other guy who's up there now."

"Other guy?" Lee goggled at the older man. "There's another one?"

"Mmm-hmm. The one last night, I've seen him before but the one this morning that said he was here to pick up all the boxes? He's still there."

"Pick up the boxes…?" Lee shook his head as if that would clear it. "Did he show identification too?"

"Yes, of course he did," said Feller in an affronted tone. "And it was the same as that tall fella had, the one from last night."

Lee considered that for a moment. "Did either of them have an eye patch?"

"Oh yes, that's the one that's up there now. You know him?"

"Oh yes," said Lee, grimly. "I know exactly who that is." He rocked back and forth on his heels, thinking quickly. "Mr. Feller? Is the apartment below mine still empty?"

"It sure is," said the doorman in confusion. "But why-"

"Thanks – I'll see you around!" Lee turned and headed for the elevator.

"That man is so odd," muttered the doorman. "First he's dead, then he's not. And now he cares about bothering the neighbors? I bet there's a woman involved somehow." He shrugged and went back to work.

* * *

Upstairs, Lee got off on the floor below his apartment and strode to the apartment directly below his own. With a quick glance up and down the hall, he pulled out his lock pick to let himself in, then ran through the empty rooms to push open a window and climb out onto the fire escape. Moving as swiftly and silently as he could, he moved up the metal stairs and peered into his bedroom window. Seeing no one, he gave a quick prayer that he had forgotten as usual to lock the window and gave the frame a tentative push. He refrained from giving voice to the sound of triumph as the window lifted noiselessly, allowing him access. Now with any luck, he could take Sinclair by surprise, since he'd only expect any kind of attack through the front door and certainly not from a man he thought was dead.

He inched toward the door, intent on surprise when he froze in horror at the sound of three words in the next room that he absolutely didn't want to hear right now.

"Oh my gosh."

Lee closed his eyes and gave a quiet groan of disbelief. He tiptoed forward and stopped behind the half-open door and peered through the crack; he could see Sinclair now, moving around the apartment, setting up explosives.

"I think I can put my finger on the precise moment that I knew they had to die," he said, his conversational tone at odds with his murderous words.

"Who had to die?" Amanda asked.

"All of them. All these dashing, young agents. They had no right to do the things I could no longer do. I was better than them."

"But you were an actor."

Sinclair stopped to survey her and respond to that. "I was Buzz Blade, Mrs. King," he said, as if that explained everything.

Lee shifted to look around the door and winced. Amanda and Francine were tied to chairs, side by side. Amanda's attention was on Sinclair but he could tell that Francine was working on the knots behind her back. At that moment she glanced up and locked eyes with Lee. To his astonishment, she didn't even bat an eye at seeing him, just nodded in acknowledgement and went back to trying to work herself free.

"Mr. Sinclair, I'm no expert on this sort of thing, but I really think that you could use some help," Amanda was saying now in a soothing tone.

Lee pulled his head back around the door frame and readied his gun. He could hear Amanda saying something about drive-ins now but Sinclair didn't appear to be happy with the change in subject and from the sounds of his voice, he'd moved closer to the bedroom. There was the unmistakable raspy sound of a lighter and then a despairing "Oh, no, Mr. Sinclair, please don't. You'll blow up the whole building."

Lee gripped the door handle, waiting to fling it open and jump him as he came past, but suddenly the door flew back as Sinclair slammed it open, catching Lee full in the face and knocking him back on the floor, the gun flying out of his hand. Even though he was seeing stars from the blow from the door, Lee scrambled to reach the gun first, but Sinclair merely kicked him in the chin and picked it up from where it had gone skittering across the floor.

"Get up," he ordered, pointing the weapon at Lee and making an upward motion. Lee slowly stood up and lifted his hands in surrender as Sinclair stepped back with a sneer and motioned for him to walk into the living room, before following him in.

"Oh my gosh! Lee!"

Distracted by Amanda's gasp of astonishment at Lee's appearance and with Lee partially blocking his view of the room, it took Sinclair a few seconds to realize that Francine's chair was empty, and the ropes that had held her were now piled on the ground.

"Drop it," snarled Francine from behind them and Sinclair whirled, to find himself at the pointy end of a sword.

Instead of dropping the gun, Sinclair kicked out, knocking Francine's arm up, then turned and fired at Lee as he came at him, missing him as Lee swung sideways. The shriek from Amanda as the bullet lodged in the wall beside her head sent Lee spinning to look. She threw herself sideways, toppling the chair and letting out a pained cry as she hit the floor. Sinclair jumped over the sofa and grabbed the matching fencing foil from the wall with his spare hand, turning to face Francine like some kind of crazed Zorro with a gun in one hand and a sword in the other.

Lee picked up a sofa cushion and launched it at him, but Sinclair simply batted it aside and took aim at Amanda. Lee threw himself in the way as Francine jumped at Sinclair, slicing at the hand he had the sword in, but not before another bullet had lodged itself in the wall above Amanda.

Lee rolled to shelter her with his body, while Francine began to parry in earnest with the crazed actor. "Hey Kid," he greeted her, wrapping his arms around her, or at least as much as he could with the chair in the way.

"You're alive?" Amanda said as she found herself eye to eye with Lee. "You're really here? And alive?" Her voice was scratchy with tears of relief.

"Yep," he said, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "And you're the one on the floor this time."

Amanda let out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. "I'd hug you but I'm a little tied up." She glanced over his shoulder and gasped. "Oh, look out!"

Lee twisted to see what happening behind them. To the trained eye, it was obvious Francine had Sinclair on the ropes as far as technique went and it reminded Lee of Billy warning him once before months ago to never challenge her to a fencing match. Certain that Francine was more than capable of dealing with the aging actor, he reached around Amanda and began to undo the ropes binding her to the chair, keeping himself between her and the fight, just in case. He became dimly aware of a pounding sound and realized that someone was banging at his front door.

"Oh God, please don't be Mr. Feller," he muttered. Getting the last of the ropes untied, he helped Amanda to her feet and began pushing her toward the apartment door and safety.

"Lee! The fuse!" she exclaimed, and he turned to quickly stamp out the burning wire. Amanda gasped again, her gaze fixed somewhere over his shoulder and he looked over at the dueling pair.

Sinclair had both the sword and the gun pointed toward Francine but she was batting his hands aside in an easy rhythm, seemingly without any effort at all. As Lee watched, she struck a blow to the hand with the gun in it, making Sinclair shriek with pain and drop the gun, which went flying across the room, lodging itself under the sofa.

Lee debated making a grab for it but the fight moved again, closer to him and Amanda and he knew he need to get her out of the way first – a room full of guns, swords and enough dynamite for a Roadrunner cartoon was a recipe for disaster at any time, but add in Amanda…

"Not much buzz in your blade after all, is there, old man?" Francine taunted her opponent.

With a roar, Sinclair charged toward her but she stepped aside with ease and he went stumbling into the bedroom, Francine following with a flourish of her sword and a determined expression.

"Let's get you out of here," said Lee.

"Lee! We have to help her!" said Amanda.

"I will – right after I know you're safe," he said.

Her eyes turned stormy and she literally dug in her heels, fighting not to leave the apartment. Gripping her wrist, Lee moved past her to pull open the apartment door, only to have Efraim knock him down, then land on top of him as he fell in the door he'd just attempted to knock down.

"Really? You waited until now to open the door?" Efraim panted as he tried to disentangle himself.

"We got here as soon as we could," said Amanda, grabbing his hand to help Efraim up. "You really shouldn't have tempted fate with that on-the-floor crack," she told Lee.

"Francine?" Efraim asked, now back on his feet.

"Bedroom," grunted Lee, still recovering from having the wind knocked out of him.

As Efraim strode across the apartment, Francine walked out of the bedroom and dropped the sword.

"What happened to Sinclair?" asked Billy, skirting around Lee and Amanda and into the apartment.

"He lost," replied Francine, walking into Efraim's embrace. "You'll want to get someone to clean up the alley right away."

"I'm on it," said Billy, lifting the phone and making a quick call. "I love what you've done with the place, Lee," quipped Billy after he hung up, "But I think we should get the building cleared out and the bomb squad in to deal with this, don't you?"

"Yeah," Lee grunted in agreement as he got up and looked around the room, wincing.

"I can't believe you're alive," said Amanda, throwing her arms around him. "They told us you were dead!" She turned in the circle of his arms to look at Billy. "You told me he was dead! How could you?"

"Yes, well," stammered Billy. "It was for a very good reason, Amanda, and it really wasn't supposed to go on this long…"

"He's right, it wasn't," said Lee. "And it would have been over much quicker if you'd just done what Billy told you to do and gone home! I should have known you wouldn't."

Amanda stepped back and turned on him, eyes blazing and jabbing him in the chest. "Oh, how dare you make jokes! I have been really upset about this. I thought I'd lost a friend, and that hurt! And I was frightened when that man broke into my house after the funeral and I didn't have you to call…" She stopped speaking and stepped back, gulping back tears.

"He broke into your house?" asked Lee in confusion. "Is that when he captured you? How did he get you here with anyone seeing you?"

"No one captured us!" snapped Francine, striding across the room to stand in front of him, hands on her hips. "This whole mess is your fault! And yours too!" she snapped at Billy. "We've been hiding out since last night because of you and this stupid idea!"

"How is it my fault?" Lee defended himself. "If Amanda had just gone home like she was supposed to-"

"I did go home!" said Amanda hotly. "And he was there!"

"No, he wasn't!" countered Lee. "No one was there but me!" Amanda recoiled as the penny dropped for both of them.

"That was you?" she said faintly. "That was you that left the flowers and the champagne on my counter? That was you that was moving around upstairs? That was you that frightened me half to death, thinking you were some grave-robbing crazy person?"

"Yes, it was," Francine answered for him. "Efraim figured that out this morning. And it was also you that left all those hang-up calls at my apartment, I bet," she went on, glaring at Lee.

Lee nodded, wordlessly.

"Oooooh!" Amanda screeched, reaching out to push him. "How could you? How could you let me... us… think that you were d-d-d-dead?" Her voice broke as she went on. "I know you don't like tears, I know they frighten you more than bullets, so I'm sorry about this little scene, but you brought it all on yourself because it would have been totally unnecessary if you hadn't been killed, which you haven't been, and I cared that you were dead, and I don't care if you don't care that I care!"

Lee shifted from foot to foot with embarrassment. "I do care, and I'm sorry. But it was business…"

"Don't," she ordered, holding up a hand. "I am too angry with you to hear about your stupid little mission that causes this kind of deceit!"

"Amanda…You're angry because I'm alive?"

"No!" Amanda spat out. "Of course I'm h-h-h-happy that you're alive! I'm angry because you made me a p-p-promise and now it turns out you broke that promise for _business_?"

"I should never have said that," said Lee.

"No, you shouldn't," she answered, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "Not when you were going to treat it as a joke."

"Amanda, come on," he cajoled her. "Don't be mad."

"I can't help it," she said. "I have had the worst three days of my life and none of it needed to have happened if you had just trusted me enough to tell me the truth. Both of you!" she added, rounding on Billy who had just gotten off the phone again.

"I'm sorry Amanda, but it was need to know," said Billy sombrely.

The look Amanda gave him told him exactly what she thought of that.

"Let me take you home, Amanda," Efraim broke in.

"I can take her," said Lee, immediately.

"No, you need to stay here and clean all this up," Amanda said, waving around the apartment. "And I need to go home and call my family and tell them it's safe to come home after all and then maybe I can get over being angry with you and start just being glad you're alive."

Lee had winced at the diatribe, but now smiled hopefully at her. "You are glad though… right?"

"Don't push your luck," muttered Efraim. Lee turned to look at him questioningly. "She's not the only one who's mad at you right now."

A quick glance at Francine and back at Efraim said that much was true.

"It was only supposed to be for one day," said Lee, even though he knew it was a weak excuse at this point.

"We went to your funeral," hissed Francine. "I cannot believe that you of all people would-". She stopped and got herself under control. "We went to your _funeral_," she repeated, then took Amanda by the arm. "Come on, Efraim can drive you home. I need to go back to the office and start writing up what happened here."

Lee stepped aside to let them past, staring at Amanda's retreating form with a look of misery.

"I really screwed up this time, Billy."

"They'll get over it, Scarecrow," his boss consoled him. "They'll understand it was just the job. Now come on, we need to get the bomb squad in here and clear this out."

"Yeah, let me just grab a change of clothes," Lee muttered. He jogged into the bedroom, stopping short at the sight of Amanda's overnight bag on the chair and the obvious signs of his bed having been slept in. He stuck his head back out the door. "Billy, were they hiding out here this whole time?"

"Yes, Efraim said it was the one place they thought they'd be safe from Sinclair," confirmed Billy. "Who'd have thought they'd end up in the middle of all of it instead?"

Lee lifted an eyebrow, and Billy let out a bark of laughter. "You're right Scarecrow. I don't know why we didn't look here first."

Lee walked back into his room and sat on the edge of the bed. Unknowingly copying Amanda's action of the night before, he picked up the pillow and brought it to his face, inhaling the faint scent she'd left behind. He realized it was slightly damp and ran his fingers over it, taking another beat to understand that she'd cried recently enough that it was still wet.

"Oh, I have really, really screwed up," he thought.


	10. The Wounds We Cause

Lee knew he'd screwed up but he didn't have a chance for the first couple of days after it all happened to ask Amanda for some time alone to try and make up with her. It had been a kind of penance to have to undo all the things that had been set in motion by his supposed demise – Billy had managed to keep most things on a go-slow in Personnel but there was still enough paperwork to make him regret the cover. And normally, he'd have had a cheerful Amanda to help smooth his way with this sort of thing, but she hadn't been at work the last two days, which didn't really surprise him given everything he'd put her through.

She hadn't hung up on him though, when he called to ask her to meet him to talk about it, somewhere neutral where they could both relax and she'd agreed that having this conversation somewhere outside the Agency was the best idea. No speculative stares, no witnesses to what was likely to be a strained conversation. So now they were sitting at a small table at the back of a restaurant, near the Agency, but not frequented by anyone they knew. Once they'd stiltedly ordered coffee and waited until the waitress was out of earshot, he'd attempted that apology he knew he owed her. It turned out he used the worst possible opening.

"I'm sorry about the whole fake death thing, I really am."

Amanda set down her cup and stared into it for a moment, obviously choosing her words before looking up at him. "You really don't get it, do you?"

Lee was hunching up now, crossing his arms defensively. "What's to get? It upset you, you're mad at me – I deserve it. I guess I just hoped maybe you'd be glad enough to see that I wasn't dead that you'd stop being angry at me about it at some point."

"Oh Lee," she sighed. "I was never angry about you pretending to be dead. You're an intelligence agent, I expect a certain amount of lying and sneaking." She glanced up, a small smile chasing across her face. "Well, okay, there was a little bit of being mad about finding out you were safe – like the way you always yell at me when I end up in the middle of something."

"But why are you _still_ mad about?" he asked plaintively. "I said I was sorry! And I am – I didn't just say it, I meant it," he rushed to add.

"I know you did," said Amanda, reaching out and waiting until he uncrossed his arms and reached to tangle his fingers with hers. "And I know you didn't mean for it to go on so long, or for me to think that someone was out to get me, or for Patch to end up almost killing me… honestly I do."

"But you're still mad."

"Well, yes I am, but not because of what you did or why you did it, but _how_ you did it." She squeezed his fingers again and tried to explain. "You had a job to do and you needed to be convincing. And you know if you'd asked I would have done anything to help and so would Francine and so would Efraim. But you didn't ask."

"We wanted to make it look realistic."

"Well, it certainly was," she agreed. "We were all devastated."

"I'm so sorry. Like I said, we didn't think it would be for that long."

"That's not the point, Lee. I was – am – angry because you used our friendship without even thinking about my side of it. You used me – and thought that I shouldn't be upset by that."

"But you needed to be upset! It wouldn't have worked as a cover if you hadn't looked like it was real."

"It _was_ real to me!" she snapped, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "You know what drives me crazy about the Agency? You guys always make things so complicated. Francine is sent undercover all the time to act a part and yet you didn't think to ask her to just pretend to be upset? Why couldn't you just hide out and ask me to pretend to be upset? People would have believed it."

"You think you could have acted like it was real?"

Amanda nodded. "People see what they expect to see. All I had to do was cry. I could have done that just as easily if Mr. Melrose had just stabbed me with a safety pin instead and it would have been a lot less painful."

"So you're mad because we didn't ask you to be part of my cover?"

"No! Yes! Ugh!" Amanda groaned. "Look… to you and Mr. Melrose, this was just business. That's what you said – not personal, just business. But it wasn't to me! To me it was very personal and when you said that, well, it really hurt. You said no one would believe it if I wasn't upset. Why did you think that?"

"Because we're friends and people would expect it."

"So you knew I'd be upset and purposely set out to use that?"

"Yes, I guess so."

"And then you thought you could just show up and use my house to hide out in and I'd have let you?"

"You would have, wouldn't you?" Lee asked, startled.

"Of course I would have," Amanda agreed. "Because we're friends."

"Right."

Amanda could tell Lee was still not getting it. "You know, I think I trust you more than just about anyone else in the world," she said quietly.

"Well, thank you," Lee answered, obviously confused by the apparent change in topic.

"All the crazy things that have happened and I always knew you'd be there, doing the right thing, trying to keep me safe because you're my friend. No matter what happened, we worked together to find a way out of it." She paused, letting that sink in. "Do you know what upset me the most about the way you supposedly died that night?"

Lee shook his head.

"That you were alone. That you were by yourself in some dark alley and that you might still think that no one would care if you died."

"I don't think that anymore," he said miserably. "I haven't thought that since…"

"Since you promised me I wouldn't have to go to an unnecessary funeral."

There was a long silence as Lee struggled to find the words to respond to that and Amanda swallowed, trying not to cry again.

"And I believe you when you say you don't think that anymore… because you knew… you knew I'd be upset if you died and then…" Amanda's voice broke. "And then you took that knowledge and used it for 'just business'. You purposely set out to make me think the worst possible thing had happened because it needed to look _real_. But it _was_ real. To me, it was all real and to you it was…'just business'. And that hurts more than anything else."

Stricken, Lee rocked back in his chair, staring at her with painful comprehension. "Oh God, Amanda. I never thought…"

"No, you didn't, did you?" she asked sadly. "Like I said, you agents make everything so complicated and if you had just asked, I could have pretended. But you didn't – and now I can't pretend I'm not really upset." She pushed away from the table and stood up. "So I'm glad you're alive, I really am. But right now, I'm still not quite sure I want to be around you."

She turned and walked away, leaving Lee licking his self-inflicted wounds.


	11. Do Elephants Forgive?

"Amanda, I really wish you'd come with us to Williamsburg, even if we did spend most of our time holed up in the hotel trying to stay out of the rain. Your time alone doesn't seem to have cheered you up at all!"

Amanda dragged her eyes up from her coffee cup to meet her mother's concerned gaze. "I wish I had too, Mother. But the time alone really helped open my eyes to a lot of things."

"Really? Like what?" Dotty leaned in, all interest now.

"Well, for one thing, I think I need to think about my future at IFF."

"Whatever for?"

"Well, I think this kind of work… It needs objectivity and professionalism and I get too emotionally involved."

Dotty stepped back and stared at her. "Amanda, Darling – it's a documentary film company – how on earth can you get too emotionally involved? I mean, Marlon Perkins doesn't even get upset when the lion eats the impala every week."

Amanda hiccupped out a small laugh and pulled her mother into a quick hug. "Maybe that's my problem, Mother. Some days I have to be the lion and I feel like I end up being the impala."

"Oh my, I had no idea your job was so bloodthirsty," answered Dotty. "Well, if you can't be a lion, and you don't want to be an impala, maybe you could be a hippo!"

"I…what?" Amanda began to laugh as she took in her mother's look of mischief.

"Oh they look harmless enough, but they're just lurking along below the surface, not getting much attention but watching everything…" Dotty held up flattened hands just under her eyes to demonstrate a hippo peeking out of the water. "And then when nobody expects it, they charge out of the river and get you! They're the most dangerous animal in Africa, you know. My placemat at the Williamsburg Howard Johnson's told me so."

"Mother!" Amanda was rocking with laughter now. "I don't think I want to be a hippo either!"

No," agreed her mother, pleased that she had gotten Amanda to smile again. "Maybe not. How about an elephant?"

"Mother?" Amanda asked, trying to sound serious but the tremor of laughter still audible in her voice. "Should I be worried that you keep comparing me to giant grey animals? I know you're always telling me to gain weight, but now I'm wondering..."

"Of course not!" Dotty put down her cup to avoid spilling it while she laughed. "I just think there's a place for you on the food chain that isn't eat or be eaten. I mean, look at all the good things: elephants are smart and protective and nobody pushes them around even though they'd never hurt anyone unless they were forced into it. They have long memories, so they don't make the same mistake twice, and that's certainly true of you, Darling."

"No, I suppose they don't," Amanda replied. She stared into her coffee for a moment and then back up at her mother. "Do you think elephants hold grudges then? Do you think they remember everything and don't let themselves get fooled twice?"

"What I think is that we've stopped talking about elephants," said Dotty. "Amanda, Darling, you aren't a person who holds grudges, you simply aren't." She held up her hand as Amanda began to interrupt. "Now there's some truth to the saying about fool me once, but that's not the same thing as holding a grudge and you have always been someone who has been willing to give everyone a second chance. And I'm sure I don't know what someone at work could have done to upset you this much because it's like pulling teeth to get you to talk about that place, but you said you needed to be more objective and professional. So tell me – objectively and professionally – are they worth being given a second chance?"

"I'm not sure anymore," said Amanda, wretchedly. "I thought they were my friend, but this time, when it came down to it, they were all about the job."

"This time?" asked Dotty. "So there have been other times when they haven't been?"

Amanda stared at her mother as if she'd been struck. Unbidden, all the memories of that day Lee had quit in a rage over the Agency treating her kidnapping as "just business" came flooding back to her.

"Oh my gosh."

Dotty nodded decisively. "I think you just figured out the answer to my first question. So what are you going to do about it?"

Amanda straightened up and took a deep breath. "I guess I'm going to go find out if someone will give me a second chance too."


	12. A Step Forward, Back To Where We Were

It wasn't the same now. The bullpen used to be comfortable, but the past few days, it had been a place he skulked in and out of, trying to stay under the radar and out of Amanda's way.

Billy had been right up to a point about the whole thing blowing over. Efraim and Francine seemed to have grudgingly accepted his apologies, agreeing that they could kind of understand why it had been necessary to keep everyone in the dark at first, although Francine had been annoyed for a little longer – not unexpectedly.

But Amanda – that was another kettle of fish entirely. After their conversation that was supposed to make it better, it seemed worse. She had stopped being visibly angry and now there was a sort of brittle politeness on her part that held him at arm's length. Billy had told him that he'd had to have a long talk with her, convincing her to stay at the Agency at all. Unlike Francine, it wasn't just about hurt feelings that she'd been left out of the loop; for Amanda, the problem had been the wake-up call of realizing exactly how far the Agency would go in pursuit of a suspect. When he'd told Billy that it didn't seem like a good idea to not tell her the truth up front, he'd been hazy on why, but now he knew – she'd made it perfectly clear in words even he could understand. He'd taken advantage of her trust in their friendship for a case, and even if his intentions had been good, the result had been the same as if he'd set out to hurt her on purpose.

Sometimes it felt like he was making inroads on rebuilding that broken trust, but then someone would come up to his desk to congratulate him on not being dead or for having captured the killer. And every time someone made a joke about needing tips on how to fake their death to avoid the IRS or paperwork or their spouse, Amanda's face would go blank and her head would go down as she concentrated on her work.

Even Billy noticed and after a few days, he called Lee into his office.

"Still a bit frosty out there, isn't it, Scarecrow?" he commented, sympathy evident.

"You could say that," Lee sighed.

"Well, good news then. You're off to a warmer climate."

"Really? What's up?"

Billy passed him a file. "It's all in here. They need you in Sri Lanka by the day after tomorrow."

"Sri Lanka? Wow – for how long?"

"A week or two." Billy caught his glance out into the bullpen. "And yes, I'll keep an eye on Amanda and keep her out of trouble. In fact, I think I can use her particular set of skills."

"Her particular…?" Lee's eyes narrowed. "What are you up to, Billy?"

"Nothing, Scarecrow." Billy shrugged and opened his hands wide. "There's a rumor we have a defector coming in through sea shipment next week and we need to set them up with a new identity, get them used to life in America, you know the drill."

"Uh-huh. And?"

"And Amanda seems like a good choice to help someone adjust – she's friendly, she's patient, she can explain regular day-to-day stuff that regular agents tend to miss."

Lee considered that. "Yeah, she would be good at that," he admitted. "And it wouldn't be dangerous?"

"From what I'm told, not this one. I hear this guy's some kind of scientist, sounds pretty harmless."

Lee drummed his fingers in the side of the chair for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah it does. Okay, when do I leave?"

Billy pointed at the file. "Your tickets are in there; you leave from Dulles this afternoon."

Lee pulled himself out of the chair and held out his hand. "See you in a few weeks then."

"Good luck, Scarecrow," said Billy, shaking it. "And who knows, maybe a little absence will make the heart grow fonder again."

Lee paused in the office doorway with a wry smile. "I doubt that. It was absence that caused this in the first place, remember?"

Billy grimaced his acknowledgement. "Yeah. Maybe I should have gone with 'time heals all wounds'."

Lee walked across the bullpen to his desk and began to rifle through it for anything he might need to take with him. He turned to reach for his coat on the rack and pulled it on, only to find Amanda standing by his desk when he turned back around. She looked faintly nervous, chewing her lip and holding her hands in front of her like a penitent.

"Oh! Hi!" he said. "Did you need something?"

"No. It's just that we haven't… since that whole thing last week… I just wondered… I wanted to see if you maybe you'd like to go for lunch? Maybe just grab a burger?" Her eye fell on the passport he'd just picked up off the desk. "Oh. You're going away?" she asked with disappointment.

Lee winced. The first olive branch and he couldn't even take it. "Yeah, just for a little while."

"Working by yourself? I mean, will you have someone to help you… wherever you're going?"

"Oh yeah – the guys on the ground there are always good." He realized what she was asking. "I won't be working alone."

Amanda nodded. "Good." She started to turn away and Lee seized desperately on anything that would keep her there talking to him.

"Billy says he's got an idea for something you can do. You know, while I'm gone. Sounds like your kind of thing. It would get you out of the office more"

"It would?" Her eyes had brightened with interest. "Not a desk job?"

"Well, a kind of out-of-the-office desk job," Lee amended. "Nothing dangerous."

"No, of course not." He could hear the resigned disappointment in her voice.

"But can I get a raincheck on that burger?" he asked. "For when I get back? I've… well, I've missed our lunches, Kid."

"Yeah sure, Butch," she nodded, smiling, and evoking an answering beam from Lee. "When you get back."

* * *

_To be continued in "Lost Without You"_


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